


Kirnon's Kitchen Chaos

by KTook



Category: Original Work
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of severe injuries, mentions of c-section
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KTook/pseuds/KTook
Summary: With a groan, Kirnon rubbed his eyes. Speculations, rumours, doomsayings: whatever happened, he couldn’t do one thing about it. He could, however, make sure at least the kitchen ran smoothly.Running a kitchen is hard enough, even without your staff having their thoughts elsewhere. Kirnon can hardly blame them.





	Kirnon's Kitchen Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Rating for mentions of severe injuries.

“Is the roast ready yet?”

Arve blanched. “Roast?”

“Yes, the roast.” Kirnon side-stepped a kitchen boy picking up the shards of a dropped bowl. “Don’t cut yourself,” Kirnon said. “Here.” He reached below a shelf and pulled out a dustpan. “Remember to put it back when you’re done.”

The boy nodded, his entire face red as a berry.

“The roast,” Kirnon repeated. “Is it ready.”

“I… I think we didn’t make one.”

Kirnon shot Arve a pained look. “Get someone to it.”

Hastily, Arve nodded and dove into the chaos.

For a few moments, Kirnon stood where he was, right in the middle of the palace kitchen, everyone else moving around him like water around an island, until someone bumped into him, and he went back to work.

Within the next ten minutes, he saved three dishes from breaking, two soups from too much salt. All around him, eggs fell on the floor, milk was spilled, flour got everywhere it shouldn’t. Cooks, maids, and kitchen boys snapped at each other, swore, blocked the way, dropped spoons and knives.

The air was crackling and bristling with tension.

A shriek; Kirnon whirled around. Before his brain registered the fire, his hands had already taken off his apron. With two strides, he was at the burning pan, and smothered the flames with the apron.

Breathing a soft curse, Kirnon stepped away from the stove. The apron in his hand was ruined, but the palace hadn’t burned down, so that was something.

Only gradually, Kirnon became aware of the silence. The voices had died down, and all eyes were turned towards him. Everyone stood as still as statues. A bowl overflowed.

“What are you gawking like cows on the meadow?” he snapped. “Get back to work, or Istar help you all!”

They practically fell over each other and themselves to obey. Two people knocked their heads together when they simultaneously bent down to clean the spillage up.

Only Arve and the maid who had set her pan on fire remained with Kirnon. He turned around to face them.

The maid burst into tears.

Kirnon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get her out of here.”

Arve, her arm around the maid, scowled at him. “You’re being very harsh today.”

“I have a kitchen to run,” he said, his patience wearing very thin indeed, “a kitchen that feeds the entire palace, and I can’t let a single day slip through, even if the queen’s under the weather.”

“She’s not ‘under the weather,’ she’s –”

“Arve, shut up, you’re making it worse.” He gestured to the maid. “Get her to someone who can take care of her, then get back to work.”

“I –”

“That’s an _order_.”

Arve grimaced. “Yes, sir.” She tapped the maid’s arm and led her out of the kitchen.

Kirnon watched them go. His heart felt rotten. Every other day, he would have taken care of the maid himself, reassuring her that he wasn’t going to give her the sack over one small fire, possibly telling her some stories of his own misfortunes, painting himself as a clumsy oaf who only got granted control over the kitchen through sheer luck.

After his outburst of anger, the chaos in the kitchen had dissipated somewhat; there still hung a mist of anxiety in the air, but the nervous chatter had fallen silent, and the staff’s movements were more controlled.

Kirnon fetched a new apron, tied it while walking. Eyes flickered up at him uncertainly, then hastily back down. Conversations died when he passed, were only picked up when they believed he was out of earshot.

They probably all thought him heartless.

Sighing, he ran a hand over his cropped hair. He didn’t think he was wrong for yelling, and he hated himself for it at the same time.

“The thing about being a leader,” Zottec had told him once, “is having to do the right thing even when everything in you tells you not to.”

How well he understood him.

Kirnon laughed at himself. Running a kitchen was incomparable to leading an army into battle.

Arve reappeared at his side. “I managed to calm her down and dismissed her for the day.” She looked him in the eyes when she said the last part, daring him to defy her.

“Good,” he said. Nodded once, twice. He fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and quickly scanned it. “The stew?”

“All done.”

“Roast?”

“Being prepared.”

“Mouse traps in the pantry?”

“I’m a cook! Get a maid or a boy at it.”

“You’re also my deputy.” Kirnon raised an eyebrow at her. “But okay. Go make a cake, then.”

“What kind?”

“Oh, what do I know? A big one. The royal family is bigger by one tonight.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure of that,” she muttered darkly.

All heads turned again, and murmurs agreed.

Kirnon grabbed Arve by the arm and dragged her aside.

“By all the bloody stars!” She tore herself free and for a second, Kirnon was afraid she was going to murder him.

Nevertheless, he put his hands on her shoulders and locked eyes with her. “I need you to stop talking about that. About the queen. There’s just so much I can do to prevent a riot.”

The murder left Arve’s eyes and was replaced by curiosity. She leaned closer. “Has your – you know. Hasn’t he told you anything?”

Kirnon stepped back. “Not a word. Get back to work.”

“But –”

“Arve, _please_.”

Turning her eyes skywards, she pushed past him.

For a few precious moments, Kirnon was alone with his thoughts.

What if the queen _did_ die?

What if not even the child survived?

What if the queen lived, but the child died?

It had been this morning when news had emerged that Queen Mireld had gone into labour. This being her third child, everyone had thought it would all be done by noon. Now the sun was setting, and there had been no official word of what was going on.

What if King Ruthian had to rule on his own again? Kirnon didn’t know him too well, but from what he did know, and Zottec had told him, the king would probably not handle it very well. And that was putting it mildly.

And what if their children had to grow up without their mother? That, Kirnon knew in his heart, he wished no one.

And if the queen had to live with the burden of a dead child? And what of the kingdom that loved its queen dearly? And what if –

With a groan, Kirnon rubbed his eyes. Speculations, rumours, doomsayings: whatever happened, he couldn’t do one thing about it.

He could, however, make sure at least the kitchen ran smoothly.

And besides, he thought as he resumed his rounds, he had seen Zottec treat bones that were sticking out of the skin, and sew a woman back together whose intestines were falling out. He had seen her survive.

It would be fine. It would be fine.

Kirnon assigned the boy who had broken the bowl earlier to lay out the mouse traps in the pantry, then went on to relay the various bullet points on his list to the respective cooks.

And then he heard Arve call his name, and when he looked up, all eyes were turned towards the door, and when he looked to the door, Zottec was standing in it.

A shiver went down Kirnon’s spine. Some of Zottec’s blond hair was pulled back into a bun, but most of it hung around his face in limp strands. His skin was even paler than usual, and the dark bags under his green eyes made them look hollow.

Kirnon could hear his own breathing. Under the intent gazes of the entire kitchen, he covered the distance between him and Zottec.

He was wearing his blue uniform tunic, but no chainmail, and no gloves. He leaned against the doorframe like it was the only thing holding him up.

Kirnon opened his mouth, and closed it again. Zottec responded by pulling him into a tight embrace. His fingers dug into Kirnon’s spine, and his breath stirred the hairs at the nape of his neck.

When they let go, Kirnon took Zottec’s hand and pressed a kiss on the knuckle directly below the ring signifying his status as a Royal Guard. Only then, he noticed the dried blood under his fingernails.

Startled, he looked up into Zottec’s face. It was completely emotionless. He lifted Kirnon’s hands to his lips, then he straightened. His voice was heard in the entire kitchen.

“The queen and her son are well.”

It was as if the room itself sighed with relief. Some people started to cry, others embraced each other. For the first time that day, Kirnon could breathe.

“And I need a bottle of the best wine you have,” Zottec muttered, his words now only audible to Kirnon.

“I’ll send for it,” Kirnon replied, and used the kitchen’s distraction to kiss Zottec on the cheek. Zottec’s skin was dry, and rough with stubble. It was no secret they were lovers, but Kirnon’s policy strictly forbade the kitchen to be used for romantic encounters. Another thing about being a leader was not allowing yourself to bend the rules even when you let others break them.

“You look exhausted,” he said, tucking a few strands of hair behind Zottec’s ears. “Come, sit down.” He turned to the staff. “And you get back to work!” He had lost count of how many times he had said that today. “You can celebrate later!”

They laughed, and he smiled. The throng cleared, and Kirnon took Zottec’s hand and pulled him to one of the large oaken tables. Most of them were occupied by people chopping vegetables, or kneading dough, but they eventually found a quiet corner. Kirnon sent a boy for the wine, then he grabbed a basket, weaselled through the kitchen, filled it with fruit and fresh bread, and put it in front of Zottec.

“Eat. You look like you haven’t had anything the whole day.”

“I don’t just look it,” Zottec grunted, tore the bread in half, and unceremoniously stuffed it in his mouth.

Kirnon fell on the bench opposite him. His feet hurt. He broke a piece of bread off for himself and took a handful of grapes. Just as he was about to speak, the boy came back, bottle and two cups in hand.

“Thank you.” Kirnon took them from him and handed him the piece of paper. “Can you bring this to Arve?”

The boy nodded, and left.

Zottec was already pouring the wine. He handed Kirnon one cup, they clinked them together, and drank. A smile spread out on Zottec’s face. “Ah, this stuff is just the best.”

“Hm.” Kirnon smirked into his cup. “I’m just happy _you_ can tell the king you stole a bottle.”

Zottec waved a dismissive hand around. “As if he’d notice. As if he’d _care_. You know what he’s like.”

“I keep reminding him, I know him only furtively.”

Zottec shrugged as if to say, _Close enough_ , and drank again.

“But enough of that.” Kirnon decisively put his cup down. “What happened today?”

Zottec’s face darkened. He drew his dagger and very deliberately cut a peach in half and removed the stone. “Mireld went into labour this morning,” he said quietly. “The midwives were sent for immediately, but we were all rather unperturbed. Mireld herself kept making jokes that the child should better hurry up, she was in the middle of writing a letter. But…” He shook his head, massaged the back of his neck with one hand. “The child was lying wrong. Not even feet first or anything, but sideways.”

Kirnon was holding his breath; he let it out slowly. Forced down another grape.

“She was bleeding out.” Zottec drank. “So I convinced the midwives to let me cut her open.”

Kirnon could feel the blood rushing out of his face. “But she made it?”

“She and the child both. It was difficult, and I almost lost her, but yes. They live.” He put the cup down. Glanced around. Leaned forward. “For now,” he murmured.

Kirnon pretended to be very interested in the goods basket. “What do you mean?”

“I’m fairly certain the child will survive.” Zottec popped a piece of peach into his mouth. “And Mireld too, _if_ she makes it through the next few days.”

Kirnon nodded. Picked off another grape, but didn’t eat it. His fingers trembled. “With your care, I’m convinced she will.”

“Your faith in me is charming,” Zottec sighed, “but I’m no magician. My skills are limited. Or have you forgotten Torien?”

Kirnon closed his eyes. “Like I could.”

“Yeah.”

Kirnon opened his eyes again, looked right into Zottec’s.

Such a pity he had to lead by example. Otherwise, he’d grab Zottec by the lapel and make out with him until they both passed out breathless then and there.

“But one thing’s for certain,” Zottec went on, pulling Kirnon back to the present, “she’ll never have another child.”

“Oh.” Kirnon drank. He didn’t know how to react. “Did, uh, does she know?”

“Of course. I told her before – um.”

“All right.”

Simultaneously, they drank.

A hand slammed the piece of paper down on the table in front of Kirnon, and he gawked, and dropped the cup of wine into his lap. He jumped to his feet. Two aprons ruined in one day? Really? He tore it off his waist; luckily, not much had bled through the thick fabric onto his trousers. “Arve!” he complained.

“I don’t believe it!” she spat. “You’re sitting here, having wine with you lover, and I get your stupid list?”

“Did you cross anything off?”

Wrong, _wrong_ thing to say.

Arve’s eyes were ablaze. Right now, Kirnon wasn’t sure if the entire Royal Guard would survive her.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” she growled, “because even if I could read your terrible handwriting, I can’t read your bloody language!”

“My – oh.” Kirnon rubbed the back of his neck. He had completely forgotten he took notes in his mothertongue, which few people in this kingdom spoke, as his birthplace was far away across the sea. “Sorry.” He pocketed his list. “I’ll get back to work.”

Zottec had watched the whole thing with a tired smile, and now he chuckled to himself.

“I’ll see you later,” Kirnon told him, one hand on his shoulder.

Zottec stood up, and before Kirnon had a chance to react, he had stolen a kiss.

“Hey, _respeta mis reglas, tonto,_ ” Kirnon grunted half-heartedly. Zottec just laughed.

Honestly, screw the rules today.

 He kissed Zottec. “Seriously, gotta go.”

“All right.” Zottec ran his thumb along Kirnon’s cheek. “See you later.”

“ _Te adoro,_ ” Kirnon whispered.

Zottec kissed him on the forehead. “I love you too.” He gently shoved him away. “Go.”

**Author's Note:**

> (I swear, this has the stupidest title I've ever come up with, but it's _the only thing_ I could come up with.)  
>  The Spanish is mostly google translate with fact-checking. I apologise if I got it wrong.  
> This is from the same character set as in [Zottec's Birthday,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7766791) but the two works are from Alternate Universes of each other.  
> Kirnon is the equivalent of Latino in this fictional world.


End file.
